


He Is Returning

by mansikka



Series: Getting Domestic [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Family, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Worried Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 11:41:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15929708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Jack has been away from the Winchesters for a while, keeping in fragmented contact with Cas through the occasional email, though nowhere near as often as Cas would like.When a stack of postcards arrives for them one morning, Dean braces himself for Jack to re-enter their lives. Should he expect the worst? Prepare a room? Shield Christopher from the literal son of Lucifer should he come calling? What is Jack like now after all this time?





	He Is Returning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :) 
> 
> Recently, I realised I had neglected to mention Jack _at all_ in this series. Oops? That's now been rectified! This is a standalone that you can read as it is if you want to, but might not make a ton of sense if you haven't read the rest of Getting Domestic first. Enjoy!
> 
> Thanks go to dmsilvis and mummabro for looking this over for me, and again to dmsilvis for her cover art for this series that you can see below. Go check out her [tumblr](https://dmsilvisart.tumblr.com/tagged/dmsilvisart%20fanfic%20illustrations) for all the beautiful art!

 

* * *

"Hey, Dean."

Dean ducks to avoid banging his head on the car he's changing the oil for on his driveway, looking up to find Harrison waiting for him with a stack of mail.

"That all for us?" he says, wiping his hands on an old dish towel so they're not quite so dirty, and taking the small pile from Harrison's hands as he adjusts the strap of his mailbag over his shoulder.

"Sure is," Harrison agrees, nodding towards the mail Dean's now holding. "Though, those cards; I don't know how many post offices they might've been through. Whoever wrote them only put your street name and no number. These things might be going back a while."

They must be from Jack, if from anybody, Dean thinks, running his thumb over the bright blue square jutting out that has to be a postcard. He's both pleased at the thought of hearing from him and concerned that he's been writing to them without the mail actually reaching them for however long. But he smiles back at Harrison in thanks anyway, not missing the chance for some idle neighborhood gossip before Harrison is back to his mail route, and Dean's decided a drink break is in order so heads inside.

Curiosity gets the better of him, his intention to leave the cards for Cas to read first lasting only for as long as it takes to look through their other letters. There is a store card from their usual supermarket and a reminder about a parents evening coming up next week. Even now, after all this time, with a husband, son, house, and practically the picket fence, it still hits Dean every now and then just how incredible his life really is. How _normal_.

Dean makes himself a coffee, fingers tapping either side of the stack of postcards, deciding first to put them in date order without reading a single word. But then he's hooked, promising himself he'll only read one more before he goes back to the car he's working on. And by the time he checks his phone when he's finished reading the last one, he's cursing under his breath for the half hour he's wasted. Quickly draining his coffee and running back outside.

* * *

He waits until he can hear Christopher torpedoing a rubber duck with a Starfighter in the bath before he retrieves Jack's stack of postcards and deposits them on Cas' lap where he's sprawled out on the couch.

"These came today," he says, backing it up with a kiss behind Cas' ear. "Got no idea how long they've—I mean, no idea whether these are _all_ of 'em, or if there are still some out there somewhere still to come."

"Jack," Cas says softly, sitting up and clutching the cards in his hands.

"Yeah. Seems to be doing okay—according to these, anyway."

"Dean," Cas says, turning the cards over and tracing his thumb over the stamp in the corner of the first one, "we haven't heard from him in _months_."

It's true. The last time they heard from Jack was some time before Martin and Rebecca were here in the summer for the Ferguson family gettogether. Maybe even around the time of that vampire thing when he and Cas were far too preoccupied to think of much else. Neither of them _meant_ to forget that Jack hadn't checked in from whichever corner of the world he'd found himself in at the time. But even if they had noticed, there was little they could have done about it for not knowing where he was.

"Still. It's _something_ , right? I mean, at least he sounds _happy_ in these things," Dean says, pointing out the crudely drawn smiley face at the bottom of the card Cas is reading.

"I suppose."

"Cas—"

"Dean," Cas says softly, peering over his shoulder towards the stairs, "he was not in control of his powers _here_ , with _us_ to offer… guidance, and support."

"Well. He doesn't mention too many jailbreaks—"

"Which he would likely avoid _telling_ us about if anyone had come to any harm," Cas points out, his voice laced through with worry.

"Cas," Dean whispers, pressing a long kiss to the side of his head. "We can't… all we can really do is wait to hear from him. If he doesn't want to be found, or… needs to figure things out for himself. We're gonna be no help trying to force him to talk to us about it."

Cas' huffed out breath says he doesn't agree with him, but Cas reaches back to clasp his hand anyway, pulling for Dean to join him on the couch.

* * *

"Did he answer you yet?"

Cas shakes his head at Dean's question, and if Dean didn't know better he'd think Cas was praying at Jack through the laptop screen. They've been through his postcards a dozen times over, smiling at some of his adventures but then looking at one another in concern for others because of the comments he's made.

Dean has tried to reassure both Cas and himself that Jack is just _finding himself_ , and _discovering humanity_ , like he'd told them he'd be doing when he first took off. And for the most part, from the things he's been writing to them about, that seems to be going pretty well for him. But there are the odd comments, the mentions of things when he's lost his temper, or had to leave a place in a hurry that don't sit too well with either Cas or Dean.

"Well. I'm sure he will. He's probably… out living the life of Riley and all that," Dean says, tapping Cas' shoulder so he knows to raise his glass for him to top up his wine.

"He should be living the life of _Jack_."

"Which is what?" Dean asks, topping up his own glass then slumping down beside Cas on the couch, throwing his arm around Cas' shoulders and kissing the side of his head.

"One where he doesn't expose himself to environments that could prove… apocalyptic if he is in a bad mood."

"Cas—"

"Not that any of this is his fault," Cas adds, hitting refresh on his emails again before closing the laptop lid with an exasperated sigh. "He has no control over his parentage."

"Well," Dean says, kissing Cas' shoulder, "I'm… real sorry about Kelly, and all. But I'm glad his other _parent_ is never gonna darken our doorstep again."

"The only _Lucifer_ I want to know about is the one we binge-watched last weekend," Cas retorts with a tiny trace of a scowl that's gone by the time he's pulled back from leaning in for a kiss.

"That's 'cos you got a thing about—"

"I do _not_ have a thing—"

"Cas, c'mon," Dean says, smiling as he drops kisses behind his ear until Cas is laughing and complaining about him _tickling_. "Everybody _looks_."

"I was merely admiring—"

"Oh. I _know_ what you were admiring—"

"Who is _Jack_?"

Dean and Cas turn as one to watch a sleepy Christopher stumbling down the stairs towards them blearily rubbing his eyes, both of them jolting when he almost misses the final step.

"Can't sleep, buddy?" Dean asks as Christopher joins them, tucking his face between theirs as he leans over the back of the couch.

"I needed the bathroom. I'm thirsty now."

"Okay, what'll it be? Milk? Water? Juice?"

"Milk, please," Christopher says, shuffling around the couch in his dinosaur slippers as Cas extends an arm over the back of it to get his attention.

"One milk coming right up."

Dean listens to Cas and Christopher murmuring together as he pours the milk, sneaking one of the cookies he made earlier on to a napkin, wondering how big a battle it will be after it to get Christopher to brush his teeth.

Christopher misses nothing, of course, practically inhaling the cookie in between gulps of milk, all while asking about _Jack_ again.

"You were talking about him when I was coming down the stairs," he says, humming around his last mouthful of cookie and only prevented from wiping his mouth on the cuff of his pajamas by Cas tugging on his napkin and raising an eyebrow.

"Well, Jack is… Jack is sort of… Jack's family," Dean settles for saying, shooting a glance at Cas because he doesn't know how to start.

"Jack is my— _our_ —nephew," Cas says with a quick smile up at Dean where he's leaning over the back of the couch, seeming to want his approval, which Dean gives readily by reaching out to squeeze his hand. "His father was my brother—"

"Kinda like how I'm Sam's nephew because he's _Dad's_ brother?" Christopher asks as he wriggles around enough so he can look between them both in expectation of an answer.

"That's right," Dean tells him, "exactly like that."

"So… do I have _another_ uncle that I gotta remember to send a birthday card to?" Christopher asks, screwing up his eyes as though he's trying to store up the information, or even remember Sam's birthday.

"Uh, no," Dean says, his stomach dropping for the thought of _Lucifer_ , "no. He's… he's gone now. And his—and Jack's mom."

"...gone like… _my_ first parents?" Christopher says after a moment, his hand out and squeezing Cas' thigh as he often does when he needs a little reassurance.

"Yes," Cas says, leaning forward to kiss him on the forehead.

"And does he… did he get a paper family too?"

"Well," Dean says, taking over from Cas when he sees his face fall, "not—not really, Christopher. See, Jack is… _older_."

It hits Dean then, not that he's truly forgotten, that technically Jack is barely only a couple of weeks older than _Christopher_.

"How big is he?"

"Well, he's… we don't really know," Dean says, clearing his throat, "we… sort of lost contact with him for a while."

"But he's a grown-up," Cas adds, even if the frown on his face disagrees with what he's saying.

"So… he doesn't need anybody to take care of him?"

The earnestness in Christopher's expression seems to _break_ Cas, who scoops Christopher up in his arms to cradle him in his lap, hiding his face in his shoulder as he rocks him.

"I think maybe we all need _someone_ to take care of us sometimes," Dean says, pushing back first Christopher's hair from his forehead then doing the same to Cas.

"Did Jack make Dad sad?" Christopher asks as he leans his head against Cas'. Dean plans for after about three seconds after they've taken Christopher to bed when he'll be pulling Cas into _his_ arms.

"Jack… made Dad worry," Dean tells him, wrapping a hand around Cas' shoulder in support.

"Is it 'cos he went into the _pyramids_ and didn't tell anybody he was going in?" Christopher asks, his voice rising in awe.

Christopher has seen Jack's postcards then, Dean thinks, probably looking through them on Cas' nightstand when he'd insisted on taking him breakfast in bed this morning, that was really just a slab of cake.

"It's… something like that, yeah," Dean replies, glad to see that when Cas lifts his head up at least he is smiling.

"He could have a _curse_ ," Christopher whispers, eyes out on stalks.

Having Lucifer as a father is quite enough curse for Jack, Dean thinks, but he nods back anyway in agreement.

"Is he coming to stay with us?" Christopher asks then, staring intently back at Dean then turning to Cas when he doesn't answer.

"It would be nice if he could visit us for a few days, at least," Cas tells him.

"Does he like _Star Wars_?"

Cas' expression is such a confused mix of disdain, dread, and resignation, that Dean has to clutch the back of the couch and look up at the ceiling just to compose himself.

"He is a _Winchester_ ," Cas replies. "The likelihood of Jack liking Star Wars is almost inevitable."

"What's that mean?"

"It means," Dean says, cupping Christopher's cheek, "that something's gonna happen that you already _think_ is gonna happen, whether you really want it to happen, or not."

"Like... when Albus gets sick from eating too many cookies?"

"Exactly like that," Dean agrees.

Christopher's attention is then taken by repeating a revolting story from just a couple of days ago at the Fergusons, where Albus had indeed eaten too many cookies and was very unwell in one of Mrs. Ferguson's favorite flower beds. Cas makes a joke about natural fertilizer that Dean groans at, and Christopher protests about with a resounding, _eww_. But then he's yawning again, nodding in sleepy acceptance when Cas offers to take him back up to bed.

Dean kisses Christopher goodnight and turns to watch he and Cas hand in hand climbing the stairs, reaching over the back of the couch to the table for Christopher's discarded napkin and glass. He puts on a pan of milk thinking cocoa with a generous measure of bourbon might do a little something to life Cas' mood. Silently wishing that wherever Jack is in the world, he gets in contact soon.

* * *

Dean hears a car pulling into their drive. He sneaks a glance at Cas who has Christopher by the wrist giggling as Christopher tries to pry the board piece from his fingers with no success, and knows he's far too distracted to have heard it himself. So Dean is spared a lecture about his _paranoia_ , or _nosiness_ , keeping thoughts to himself about the nerve of strange people turning their car around in their drive.

But a car door slams then, and even though Cas and Christopher are still on their knees mock-wrestling over the game they're playing, Dean is on full alert. He raises to his feet, muscle memory in his fingers twitching to reach for a weapon of sorts, even after all these years.

The knock on the door is polite, even if it's raising hairs up on the back of Dean's neck. He hears Christopher call out to ask if they ordered pizza but focuses only on what might be on the other side of the door.

Dean swings the door open, heart in his throat and conflicted feelings for the person stood before him, not knowing whether to pull Jack into a tight hug or take several paces back. He's expected him, sort of, ever since that stack of postcards arrived. But now that he's here, Dean doesn't know what to think.

His instinct is to protect his family in the house behind him, creating a barrier between them and Jack with his own body as he stands tall to block his view. Though a voice in the back of his head whispers reminders that Jack is just a boy who's had the worst possible start in life through no fault of his own. That he already showed Jack all of his hatred and nastiness for blaming him for losing _Cas_ , when Jack had no one else in the world. And he's back to wondering about that hug.

"Hey, Dean," Jack says with a quick wave, looking relaxed, and happy, and with enough stubble to say he hasn't shaved in days.

"Jack."

"I hope it's okay that I just showed up here," Jack adds, looking beyond Dean's shoulder in doubt. "Cas confirmed your address to me when he emailed. I thought… it'd be easier just to stop by."

It's been a week since that email, with Cas growing more worried by the day. But Jack's expression is earnest, and the smile on his face promises good things. Dean pushes back the tendrils of doubt he has about Jack and his _heritage_ , and opens his arms out wide.

"It's good to see you, Jack."

The laughter that had been constant behind him comes to an abrupt stop. Dean hears Cas scrambling to his feet even before Jack releases him from his hug.

"Jack?"

Dean winces for the pain in Cas' voice and is unsurprised when he steps back to find him scooping Christopher up in his arms, holding on to him both protectively and, Dean thinks, to have something to do with his hands.

"Castiel."

Cas comes to a stop in the doorway staring hard at Jack as Christopher looks him over in interest, showing no sign of any shyness when he gives Jack an enthusiastic wave.

"You must be—"

"This is Christopher. Our son," Cas finishes for Jack, holding on to him tightly.

"It's good to meet you, Christopher," Jack says softly, the tone of his voice putting Dean a little more at ease.

"Christopher. This is _Jack_. Remember us telling you about him?"

"You're my cousin," Christopher says, smiling when Jack first hesitates then gently squeezes his outstretched hand.

"I… guess I am," Jack replies, his eyes darting rapidly between Dean and Cas.

"You wanna play with us?"

"I—"

" _Dad._ We should make _pizza_ ," Christopher says, wriggling to be let down and staring up at Jack as he tugs on Dean's hand.

"Well—"

"You said it's a Winchester _tradition_ ," Christopher adds, leaning back against Cas' stomach when he wraps an arm around him.

"You gonna… maybe you wanna make pizza with us, Jack?" Dean asks, carefully checking Cas' expression and sure he is torn between seething with anger and wanting to wrap Jack up in a protective hug.

"That sounds great," Jack says after hesitating.

"You, uh… are you gonna stay with us? Tonight, at least?" Dean asks, needing to offer, even if he doesn't know what he thinks the outcome will be. Or even what he wants it to.

"I was hoping just to stay a couple of nights. If that's okay?"

Dean leaves the answer up to Cas, who is staring at Jack so intently, that Dean is convinced that he's trying to read his mind.

"Of course," Cas says, nodding. "I will make you up a bed."

"Oh," Jack says, adjusting the bag on his shoulder, "no, it's okay. I can sleep on the couch."

"I will make you up a bed," Cas repeats, and Dean knows that tone of voice, as, apparently does everyone else in the room.

"Okay. Thank you."

"Maybe… maybe Cas can show you to a room and… maybe you wanna wash up, or something? Christopher; you wanna help me make that pizza crust?"

" _Yes_ ," Christopher cheers, apparently completely unfussed by their unexpected guest, though excited at thought of making pizza.

Dean snags Cas' fingers before he follows Christopher through to the kitchen, winks in solidarity, then looks over his shoulder to see Jack trail behind him up the stairs.

* * *

Christopher has a hundred questions for Jack, insisting on kneeling up on a stool beside him so he can show him how to put the toppings on his pizza, then holding his hand up for a high five when they're both done. The questions continue as the pizzas are cooking, and only let up in between bites when they're sat around the table.

Jack, with towel-dried hair, still thick stubble, and a huge hole in the neck of his too-big t-shirt, is unfazed. He answers every question as honestly as he can, and those that Dean holds his breath for because they might lead to questions about their former hunting lives he carefully evades, or tells only enough not to make Christopher ask even more.

Cas is watching him, of course, even more on edge apparently than Dean had thought _he_ might be for having Christopher and Jack in the same room. But so far, at least, it seems those fears are unfounded. Jack could be anyone stopping by for dinner or the weekend catching up on family news.

But Cas needs to talk to Jack. Dean can see it in his eyes that he's itching to question him, find out more about what he's been doing, and where he's planning to go next. And if he doesn't talk to him soon, Dean knows Cas is going to lay awake all night glaring at the ceiling.

"Christopher," Dean says as he pushes his plate away to show that he's finished, "guess what I forgot to buy?"

Christopher holds a finger up as he gulps down his juice before answering. "No?"

"Juice boxes."

" _Again_?" Christopher says, actually looking disgusted with him for it.

It's only the second time, but Christopher is sufficiently outraged enough for Dean's plan to be working.

"I know, I know. Hey," he says, tapping the back of Christopher's hand against the table. "You maybe wanna come with me to get some? Make sure I don't forget this time?"

" _Now?_ " Christopher squeals, spinning around on his chair to look out the window, his face lighting up in delight because it's already after dark.

"Yeah. You and me. Road trip to the store. Dad and Jack can do the dishes," Dean adds, surprised that Jack is already nodding and standing, gathering up their plates like this is a normal evening occurrence for him.

Cas watches him for a few seconds before joining him, slowly tucking in his chair.

"You need anything, Cas?" Dean asks softly, wrapping a hand around his waist and ducking unnecessarily so he'll look him in the eye.

"No, thank you."

"Alright," he says, leaning in for a kiss after darting a pointed look at the back of Jack's head, surprised once again how at home he seems in the kitchen, already filling up a sink with suds. "We won't be too long."

"Do I need a jacket?" Christopher asks, sliding across the floor in his socks and slumping down so he can pull his shoes on.

Dean holds on to Cas' side, nodding to get his attention for the concentration on Christopher's face as he ties his laces, then lets him go and turns to join Christopher by the door.

"Maybe your fleece?"

Christopher tugs his favorite blue fleece down from its hook and nuzzles against it before shrugging it on, turning to look up at Dean expectantly as he puts on a sweater.

"Alright, Bud. You ready to go?"

Christopher nods enthusiastically, opening the door and racing down the steps, hopping up and down in excitement by the Impala.

* * *

"So. If you're _back_ —"

"Oh, I'm not _back_ ," Jack says, smiling at Dean, "I'm _visiting_ my family."

Dean watches the idle way Jack toys with his bottle of beer across the couch from he and Cas, like there have been far too many of them in his hands since they saw him last.

"Then, what, you're gonna go off traveling again?" Dean asks, already feeling the line of tension that is Cas pressed in his side.

Christopher is finally asleep after insisting on showing Jack all the glow-in-the-dark constellations on his ceiling and wall, and for the past hour, Jack has been telling them about his travels. It feels, at least from Dean's perspective, that there isn't a country that Jack hasn't visited or a place where he's felt he _fit_.

The idea of him disappearing off into the world again doesn't sit right at all. Though Dean can't help feeling a guilty twinge of relief that he might not be planning on sticking around more permanently. Even if he wishes Jack might just set up somewhere in driving distance instead of taking up a permanent residence in their spare room.

"Oh, no. I think I learned a great deal about the people in this world by traveling," Jack says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "But right now, I think it's the right time to have a formal, _human_ education."

"What do you mean?" Cas asks. Dean holds his breath for Jack's reaction, sure he too hear the suspicion in his voice.

"I'm studying."

"You're _studying_ ," Dean repeats, with all kinds of unpleasant imagery about the ways Jack could be _studying_ , and what he could be studying filling his mind. Pleading with the reality of his words not to be quite as vivid.

"Yes," Jack says, with pleased, proud smiles for them both. "I just completed my first term at Kansas University."

"You did _what_?"

Dean doesn't know who sounds more shocked, him or Cas. Jack though, as he has been all evening, seems completely untroubled by their reaction.

"I'm… studying. Sociology. I think the best way for me to get to know people better is to study them, and study _with_ them so that I can be more… _human_."

"And you just… walked right in? Enrolled?" Dean asks, with visions of Jack demanding he be let on to a course and sending people flying if he can't get his own way. Or worse.

"Of course," Jack replies, a slight frown as though confused by the tone of Dean's voice. "I used the fake IDs that you and Sam gave me to register, and get a driver's license—"

"You did _what_?"

"I live in a house share with four other students—"

"How do you have the money for this?" Cas asks, and Dean can see the frustration on his face for _that_ question coming out first when he has so many others. Dean's more concerned about Jack driving down the highway without a single second of instruction, only belatedly putting together the fact of him having a driver's license with the reminder that Jack arrived here by _car_.

"Some, from my mother," Jack says, looking a little guarded. "I researched and found that she had left me a little. Some I earned from small jobs that I did when I was traveling. And some from… other sources."

"Jack—"

"I have done no differently than any of you have ever done to survive," Jack points out, and it's a good point that Dean can't bring himself to be hypocritical about.

"We live very different lives now, Jack," Cas says, and Dean's thoughts immediately turn to Christopher.

"Yes," Jack agrees, "and one day, when I have finished studying, and learning all there is to about humanity, then I will live a different life too."

What objection are they supposed to make to that, Dean thinks, lost for words as he takes a glug of his beer.

* * *

"I was thinking, maybe in a couple of months, I could visit Sam. And _Eileen_ ," Jack adds, frowning a little. He has so much catching up to do for being gone so long, Dean thinks. He's relieved that visiting _Cas_ is where he chose to start.

It's been a great couple of days having Jack there with them, when he's fit in so easily that it makes Dean guilty that he ever worried about him coming back. The neighbors love him, and Albus is absolutely charmed by him, though Dean thinks that's more to do with the sausage Jack snuck him beneath the table when they had lunch at the Fergusons, than anything else.

Dean then thinks of how protective Sam is of Maura, and how he'd barely hid his flinch away from Jack the last time they saw one another. Dean decides whether anyone invites him or not that maybe he, Cas, and Christopher should go along for this _meeting_ , just to make sure everyone is okay.

"A couple of _months?_ " Cas says, incredulous. "Jack. Kansas is—"

"I just think it is better right now if I learn to be on my own. _Properly_."

"Jack, you—"

"I don't wanna hurt anyone. Or _scare_ anyone," Jack says, and the lost look on his face almost breaks Dean's heart.

"No one is _scared_ —"

"They should be, Cas," Jack tells him, interrupting. "I am still what I am. My father—"

"Is no longer—"

"My _father_ made me like this," Jack insists, scowling. "And until I can truly control this… _feeling_ within me, I have to do what is best for… all of us."

Dean agrees, and he knows Cas agrees, even if he doesn't know how to say it out loud. As relieved as he is to know Jack is okay, and back in their lives in some kind of way, the idea of Jack, his temper, and all he represents being so close to Christopher when Jack isn't even convinced he has himself under control, would keep Dean awake at night. This way, it's the best of both worlds. Especially if he can convince him to message Cas a little more often.

"Well. Before we let you go _anywhere_ , I gotta check that _car_ of yours over. You any idea when it last had a service?"

"I don't think it's ever had a service," Jack replies, looking far less concerned about that than Dean feels he should be.

"We'll… look it over in the morning before you set off back to _college_ ," Dean tells him, staring until Jack knows there is no room for argument.

"Perhaps this time you can keep in touch more regularly," Cas adds.

There is a petulant eye roll in answer from Jack that wouldn't look out of place on any of the faces of his Mom, or Sam, or Christopher, or even him and Cas. Jack _is_ family, Dean thinks, knowing it already, yet reminded of the fact as he really looks at Jack sitting across from them in their living room.

"I will," Jack says, "though, I have a _ton_ of classes."

"I thought the first year of college was all Jaeger bombs and falling asleep in lecture halls?"

Jack shrugs, a secret smile on his face that tells Dean he might be getting the full experience of college already. That it's probably best he doesn't share all the details of the things he's getting up to, for the images it might put in both of their minds.

"Just… pick up your phone once in a while, okay, Jack?" he says, with a discreet though pointed look at Cas so Jack understands exactly what he's meaning.

Jack nods and smiles, raising his bottle in toast to them both. "I will."

* * *

 


End file.
